


lye

by ficfucker



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25532587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: "It's a gift, Charon. Everyone deserves soap. Clean water."
Relationships: Charon (Fallout)/Lone Wanderer, Charon (Fallout)/Male Lone Wanderer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	lye

**Author's Note:**

> always in love with the idea that people will continously come together in innovative ways to create and reimagine things from what seems like nothing

Lone had been making his own soaps long before he became the holder of Charon's contract. Moira was the one who taught him about heating Brahmin fat and mixing it with lye leeched from wood ash. He wasn't the best at first. His initial batches came out sloppy, but Moira continued her research, excited by the process and the chemicals and the outcome, and together they learned the necessary measurements. The proper pH balance. Washo turned out to be the best additive for fragrance.

With all this established, it came as no surprise when Lone set out his supplies and asked Charon to sit beside him and lend a hand.

"I didn't think soap still existed in the Wastes," he commented. Charon lifted a box of Washo and sniffed it curiously.

Lone smiled. "Rare find. Moira found an old science book about the chemical properties of lye and well. Here we are."

"Hm."

"This batch is going to be made special for you."

"For me?"

Lone nodded, pleased, and started in with his boiling and draining and measuring. "Well, and some of the other ghouls in the Underworld. I thought using ant nectar would be best, since your skin is so… sensitive."

"Sensitive is not the word I'd use."

Lone rolled his eyes. "Abraxo and Washo are too abrasive. Something natural will treat you better."

Charon agreed silently and willingly took the wooden spoon to stir when it was offered to him. "Is this a complicated way of saying I smell bad?"

"Oh, absolutely. You know how much I hate having you around."

Charon laughed dryly.

"It's a gift, Charon. Everyone deserves soap. Clean water."

Charon wanted to point out how much Lone sounded like his father in that moment, but held his tongue. Too sore of a subject. The sentiment—equal opportunity, free resources, the fair treatment of ghouls—was so unheard of in the Wastes, Charon was almost sure Lone was the only man to hold such beliefs.

It was an interesting juxtaposition: the Lone Wanderer who slaughtered mutated beasts under the hot sun in the irradiated rubble of the world versus the Lone Wanderer who cooked up custom soaps in his little Megaton shack with the intention of giving it away to ghouls.

Charon felt he only existed on one side of that coin. The side that was reflective with fresh blood. Some small part of him knew it wasn't true, but the past followed him like a shadow. His prior evils made him unsure of the ghoul he was now: paired with the most caring contract owner he'd ever had, one who thought far enough to consider ant nectar over Washo.

"You should be a pro at soap making. You like slow, boring tasks."

Charon grumbled to himself, a defiant "I do not", but kept stirring.

"And there's that element of danger I know you're so fond of," Lone continued, crossing the room to find whatever it was he was looking for. He swung a locker open, pawed through it. "Lye can burn something awful."

Charon snorted. Lone returned with various bottles of nectar and laid them out. "Pick whatever smells best to you. That'll be mixed into your batch."

Lone came around to the hot plate to take over the stirring and skimming and as his fingers curled around the spoon, Charon ducked down and kissed the top of his head.

"Thanking me already and it's not even done yet."

Charon shrugged a single shoulder and began uncapping bottles. "Consider yourself lucky."

* * *

"Oh and what's this?" Carol chirped. She unwrapped the package of its dirty cloth, gasped when she saw the two square cakes of soap. Her eyes were round and emotive when she looked up at Lone. "Where did you even find this?"

"Charon and I made it." Lone smiled into his Nuka then took a sip, giving his partner a cheeky glance.

"I think you might be the best thing that's happened to the Underworld since Ahzrukhal… well, I guess you're to thank for that, too!" She chuckled and folded the gift back up safely. "I never would have thought someone would employ Charon to make soap, of all things."

Lone giggled. "His patience is a virtue."

Charon grumbled and tapped another cigarette out of his crumpled carton.

Carol reached across the bar and gently patted Lone's hand. "Thank you, boys, both of you. Just wait until Greta sees this…"

"It's made with ant nectar, so hopefully it doesn't irritate your skin," Lone explained. "But if it does, I can always whip up another batch."

Carol smiled brighter, paused as though she might cry, then produced another soda. "On the house. And a free whiskey for you, Charon." She poured him a shot and passed it his way.

Charon nodded, muttered a thank you.

They doled out bars to Barrows next. A whole crate of soap for him to keep on hand, should a need for it to arrive, or to pass out freely to ghouls who might want more. Quinn, Snowflake, and Tulip all got their own deliveries. Winthrop, too, who looked at Lone, confused and appreciative, then cocked his head over to Charon, seeming amused.

When they exited to the museum, Charon spoke up, said, "You might be the first smoothskin who likes ghouls enough to make them soap."

"A title I'll hold proudly."

* * *

Charon was in the process of stripping down from his armor to his plainclothes when Lone popped his head into the room, said, "Ran you a bath, you big bastard."

"I'm assuming you want me to test the… product."

"Yep. You're already half undressed so hop to it before the water cools." Lone ducked back out of view and Charon could hear him trotting down the stairs.

They'd found a claw-foot tub in the Wastes however long ago. Charon insisted he could carry it on his own, but Lone added his hands and they lugged it back to Megaton together. Walter came by to help set up the proper plumbing and whatnot, Charon watching closely in the doorway. Just in case. Walter wasn't much of a threat, but the guard dog in Charon refused to sit or even heel. Lone promptly ran the water as soon as it was hooked up and took a long soak. Charon sat outside the door and read various gun handling and repair manuals.

Charon showered, but a bath was too indulgent, too vulnerable. To sit and stew in his own radiation sounded less than appealing. What were you supposed to do? Charon had done enough in terms of idling during his time at the Ninth.

Still, Lone was giddy about the idea and despite never admitting it, Charon liked to humor the kid.

He stripped to his shorts and went down the steps, entered the bathroom.

Curling wisps of steam unfurled from the surface of the water. It fogged the dirty, half-cracked mirror that hung above the sink.

Lone's fingers hovered above the zipper of his vault suit, frozen because he'd noticed Charon. He grinned, mumbled, "Wanted to join ya, if that's okay."

"If that's what you wish."

That was enough permission. Lone untracked his suit, peeled it off, and started dancing out of his underclothes. Charon turned slightly away, crowded in the small room, and dropped his shorts to the floor. He wasn't quick enough in submerging in the bath; Lone twirled around and got a good eye full of him before he was in the water, partially distorted.

Lone whistled.

Charon rolled his eyes and sunk down deeper. His legs didn't fit. He scrunched them to his chest as Lone stepped in across from him. When the Vaultie was seated, Charon drew his legs out and dangled them from the edges of the basin.

"What's the verdict?"

"I'm surprised Megaton water can get this hot."

"Is it too hot?"

Charon considered. "No."

Truthfully, it felt good. Warmed his old bones, eased his tight muscles. He held a lot inside him, taut, ready to snap like a whip, but the heat of the water soothed that tension.

It amused him, darkly. To be partnered with Lone, who, made obvious by Winthrop's teasing expression, was domesticating Charon. Was straying further from being feral. Another rarity, if it had ever existed in the first place: a truly domestic ghoul who wasn't whipped into the submission by force.

Lone drew an arm out of the tub, beads of water dripping to the floor. He was just barely able to reach the cake of soap from where it was sitting on a small plate on top of the closed toilet lid. He dunked it under the water, lathered it between his palms, and began running his hands up and down Charon's legs.

Charon's eyes darted to Lone's face, alert. It was muscle memory. He felt like both predator and prey: trying to stay safe from danger while also remaining ready to pounce first.

Lone's spontaneity still caught him off guard, even after all their time spent together.

"Not gonna hurt you," Lone murmured.

Charon hummed. He slid his left leg back, dunked it under. The suds skated off and gathered on the surface of the water in bubbly clusters. He did the same with his other leg.

Lone scooted forward, one hand to Charon's mid-thigh. Either for balance or for his own personal wanting. He lathered again and before doing more, asked softly, "Gonna let me?"

"I was unaware I had a say in the matter."

Lone smiled. He pressed his palms to Charon's chest, ran them down to his navel. It left behind a trail of iridescent froth.

Charon tried to keep his breathing steady. He was not practiced in intimacy. Lone had been slowly and surely reviving his once-human sense of romance, but Charon kept guarded. Letting walls down, practicing free will were still obstacles.

"Soap treating you well?" Lone asked in a whisper. He cupped a hand and gathered water in it, drizzled it down Charon's front.

"Mm. Not bad for a vault dweller."

Lone snorted. "Oh, so you're an expert on soap now?"

"No, but I have seen more of the world than you." Charon shifted how he was sitting, dragging his legs into the bath. There was hardly enough room, he had to scrunch his knees, but he wanted to be closer to Lone.

Lone noticed and he dropped his hands into the water. He pushed up and craned his neck, capturing Charon's mouth so gently with his own. Charon reciprocated the kiss, bringing a bath-slick palm up to rest on Lone's bare shoulder.

"How much of the world has soap?"

"Nearly none at all."

Lone ghosted a fingertip down Charon's chest, tracing the ragged definition of muscle. "Do you remember a time when it wasn't… this way?"

"Very little," Charon answered truthfully. Lone opened his mouth to speak further, but Charon silenced him by saying, "Too many questions will lead you to trouble."

Lone grinned, devilish. "Trouble? I'm looking for it."

Charon's stomach quivered. He kissed Lone again. The room smelled thickly of ant nectar, sweet and soft as it wafted up in waves off the steaming water. It was safe, calm.

"This kind of trouble?" Charon asked in a low rumble. He skimmed his hand below the surface, crawled it up Lone's thigh. The Vaultie was halfway erect and Charon stroked him with a feathery touch to coax him to full hardness.

Lone released air from between his teeth. "God, yeah," he hissed. He blindly reciprocated the touch, his hand snaking through the water. He found Charon and with much less grace, began jerking him off. Little waves rippled as his wrist worked.

Using his free hand, Charon slid two fingers below Lone's chin and directed his mouth. Lone moaned against his tongue, twitched his hips forward with little restraint.

The heat of the bath and the warmth coiling low in Charon's stomach, igniting him inside and out, were almost too much. He bit Lone's bottom lip, felt the boy smile. Before Lone, who had last smiled at him? Before Lone, who was so eager to kiss him and not think twice about loving a ghoul?

Lone broke the kiss to drop his head to Charon's shoulder. Cradled into him. If they weren't careful, they were going to spill over onto the floor. Charon kept stroking him, thumbed over the head of Lone's cock. He whimpered and nuzzled deeper against Charon's neck.

"Do you want more?" Charon asked as softly as he could.

Lone gasped, mouth bobbing open and shut like a steam vent fluttering. "No—No, I want this. Just like this." And to prove his point, he twisted his wrist and slid his fingers over Charon in a new way. This was accompanied by a kiss to the throat. A press of lips where flesh was still flesh.

Charon growled. His unoccupied hand was still palming Lone's shoulder and he flexed his fingers. Dug his nails into the soft, yielding skin. Not harsh enough to really hurt, but to ache sweet as a bruise.

Lone whined his approval. His hips chased forward and his cock gave a heavy throb. Feeling and hearing his excitement made Charon groan, clench his eyes shut.

"We should—ha, make soap more often," Lone said breathlessly. It was praise in the form of a joke.

Charon shrugged his shoulder in order to get Lone's head up. He claimed him again in a kiss as soon as the vaultie was at an appropriate angle. If Charon gave in to his most primal thoughts, he'd never cease to kiss Lone. Would be forever consumed by his desire and lust. Pandora's box opened once and for all.

"Charon, please," Lone panted. "Please…" It was spoken into Charon's mouth and as his arousal edged toward orgasm, he continued his begging in a warbling chant.

Charon tilted his head and stooped down. He bit into Lone's neck with a measured amount of force. His wrist never once stopped its whisking, working over Lone smooth and quick. Increasing pressure. Propelled by the need to be the one that finished Lone.

Lone choked and his thighs drew tight. His grip on Charon faltered as he came, shooting into the water. Charon worked him through it, removed his teeth from the boy's neck in favor of soothing kisses. Didn't want to overstimulate him. Lone's cock twitched in time with his heartbeat and after one final throb, Lone weakly pushed Charon away.

"I did not mean to—"

A messy kiss silenced Charon's premature apology. Lone jerked him fiercely, the muscle of his forearm shivery from release, but getting the job done. Charon made an embarrassing noise, undignified. Lone seemed to enjoy it, though, whimpered in response.

It only took a few moments more. Charon grunted and came, dipping his chin down as he panted. Lone whispered encouragements, curled tighter around him. His mind snapped blank, his body coursing and pushing of its own accord until there was nothing left for Charon to pursue.

Lone slumped back in the tub. His face was deliciously pink.

Charon ran his fingers down Lone's thigh under the water in a gesture of gratitude, a silent way to demonstrate his love for the vaultie. Lone smiled, sleepy, lambish.

"I would say," Lone breathed, "that the ant nectar was a success."

"I would have to agree."

"I heard somewhere that it's an aphrodisiac."

"Oh really?" Charon made to stand, but Lone wrapped his legs around his torso, urged him to stay. "If that is what you wish of me," he said quietly.

Lone kicked him, light and joking. "What's so urgent that you gotta run off?"

Charon was thinking he'd get something to dry them with, spend a while laid up in bed together. He wanted a cigarette, too. And the urge to be on the defense and protect his contract holder was simmering below the surface. "Nothing," he answered. "I will stay."

"Do you want to you?"

Charon nudged Lone gently with the side of his foot. Another gesture of the tenderness he held so carefully inside. "Yes," he said softly.

And the smile Lone broke into was sweeter than any nectar left on earth.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3


End file.
